


Positive Reinforcement

by elysian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 15:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysian/pseuds/elysian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek decides it's a good idea to give Stiles blue balls in the middle of sex. Except that's not exactly how it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Positive Reinforcement

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I'm finally denouncing my lurker status by providing Teen Wolf fandom with porn. Kinky porn. Slightly kinky vanilla porn? 
> 
> I've always dreamt that I would embark on my maiden voyage into the foreign Teen Wolf seas wielding good, long, plotty fic. Guess not.

"Derek," Stiles says, trembling, "Derek, I'm gonna --"

"No," Derek says, taking his mouth off of Stiles' cock. "Don't."

"Oh my god, don't stop, I need --"

"Don't come."

"But I'm so close," Stiles groans, shifting his hips. His hands inch down, but Derek grabs them by the wrists and holds them off. "Oh my god, Derek, _please_ , I'm so close, I need to --"

"Not until I say so."

Stiles whines and fucks his hips into the air. A dribble of precum slides down his cock, red and wet and so fucking hard. "Why are you doing this," Stiles gasps, shifting restlessly when Derek grasps his hips and presses them into the mattress. "Do you get off on torturing me or -- oh my god! You do!"

Derek glances down at his own dick, flushed red against his abdomen, and raises an eloquent eyebrow at Stiles. Then he licks a slow, obscene stripe up the length of Stiles' dick, stopping to run his tongue along his slit.

"Holy god," Stiles says, throwing his head back into his pillow, his hips straining against Derek's hold. "Fuuuuck, _Derek_ , please!"

"No coming," Derek says, before taking the head of Stiles' cock into his mouth and sucking gently. It's enough to send Stiles into a spasming wreck, his spine curving violently off of the mattress, his mouth lax and open, panting.

"I can't, Derek," Stiles gasps, and he buries his hands into Derek's hair, fingers tightening sporadically like he can't decide whether to tug Derek closer or away. "You can't do that and -- and expect me to -- hey don't stop!"

Pulling off, Derek licks his lips and rubs his thumb beneath the crown of Stiles' dick, where he knows Stiles is most sensitive. Instantly, Stiles lets out a criminally filthy groan and his cock leaks another spurt of precum.

Reaching his free hand down to give his own dick a pull, Derek says, "I'm going to fuck you, and you're not going to come until I tell you to."

"Oh, fuck," Stiles says cleverly. "Well, what're you waiting for then? Come on."

Derek feels the growl in his throat before he hears it, and with that he dribbles lube all down Stiles' tight ass, smearing it into his hole with his free hand. Stiles shudders, his abdominal muscles clenching. Derek gets a bit distracted by the gentle ripple of stomach muscles until Stiles moans again, whines, "C'mon, hurry up."

Derek takes his time. Jerking himself off lazily, he slides a finger into Stiles, then another when there's little resistance. Typically, Stiles exhales into a groan, lifting his hips eagerly, muttering filthy little things into the pillow. He probably isn't even aware of how dirty he sounds, how every boy and every girl in school must be either blind or lacking greatly in several important departments to not trip over their respective shoes for Stiles.

"C'mon, Derek," Stiles urges, raising his hips to meet Derek's fingers. "Just fuck me already. Please? Do you want the -- the cherry and the lemonade too, I can give you that. Just -- oh my god, hurry up."

"When do I ever listen to you, Stiles?" Derek asks mildly, inserting a third finger. Stiles bites down on a particularly loud groan, and his thighs start to tremble.

"Please," Stiles gasps.

"Please what?"

"Oh my god, really?" Stiles opens his eyes to glare at Derek. "You want to play that game? I'm not begging, Derek!"

Derek takes out his fingers.

" _Fuck_ ," Stiles says. His hips pump helplessly into the air, and his hand sneaks down again. Derek grips it by the wrist. "If you don't fuck me soon, Derek, I'm going to -- I'm going to come. I can. I've done it before, coming without touching myself, the power of the mind is -- really --" Already Stiles eyes are sliding closed, and he's still rutting his hips against nothing at all, and his stomach starts to clench, signaling his impending orgasm.

"Stiles!" Derek barks. He grabs Stiles' hips again and presses him into the mattress, and then he encircles his fingers around the base of Stiles' cock and squeezes.

"What the fuck, Derek!" Stiles protests, glaring at him again. "I'm not going to beg!"

Still holding off Stiles' orgasm, Derek slides his lips over Stiles' dick again, matching glare for glare.

"Oh," Stiles says, and his thighs are trembling again, his whole body shuddering with the need to come. "Oh, fuck, fuck, Derek, fuck me --" He bites down on his words, but it's no use. Once Derek gets him going, there's no stopping; it's like Stiles was born a natural dirty talker. "Please," Stiles blurts, "Please, Derek, please."

"I'll ask again, Stiles," Derek says, and now he really needs to fuck Stiles, needs to take Stiles, make him his -- "Please what?"

"Please -- please fuck me," Stiles stutters.

"I didn't hear you," Derek says, but he's already rolling on a condom and positioning himself.

"Please fuck me," Stiles says, louder this time, so loud, and he's so filthy, so wanton. Thank god for pre-lubricated condoms, because Derek pushes into Stiles like the world could end any moment, holds Stiles still before he can start fucking himself on Derek's dick because Derek is so close, just toeing the edge, but he wants this to last.

"Move, Derek," Stiles demands, writhing in Derek's hold. Every little movement sends jolts of arousal down to Derek's very toes, and his blood all seems to defy the laws of circulation to head south.

"Don't come," is all Derek says before he snaps his hips all the way in, and then he's fucking Stiles in earnest, listening to the boy gasp and pant and moan with the littlest heed to self-consciousness.

Derek leans over Stiles to take his kiss-swollen lips in another kiss, hooking Stiles' legs over his shoulders and swallowing his moans until he can't tell who's the one doing the moaning. Stiles's hands scrabble down Derek's back, gripping his shoulders, his shoulder blades, then clutching his ass in a bid to get Derek deeper inside him. Derek can tell Stiles will have bruises on his thighs from the way he's gripping them, but right now he can't muster the ability to care, not when Stiles is rocking back onto Derek's dick like it's the most important thing in the world, panting against Derek's lips and moaning like a whore.

"Derek," Stiles says, and when Derek opens his eyes he sees the way Stiles' pupils are blown wide, sees the way Stiles bites his bottom lip, feels Stiles clench around his cock. So Derek pulls out of Stiles' ass, ignoring his protestations, and rips the condom off.

"You can't come yet," Derek says. "But you can come soon."

"I hate you," Stiles says, flopping back onto the bed. His thighs shake. "So much."

Derek doesn't reply, choosing instead to stroke himself to completion, his fist a blur around his cock. Stiles goes slack-jawed, his eyes clouding over. Derek's kneeling between Stiles' legs, so when he comes, he comes all over Stiles' chest, streaking his nipples and belly in thick white stripes. When he leans down to lick them off Stiles' nipples, Stiles chokes off a groan and starts to come.

"I said --" Derek growls, clamping his hand around the base of Stiles' dick. Stiles lets out the loudest, angriest _filthiest_ moan of protest he's ever heard.

"You just ruined my orgasm!" Stiles says indignantly, when he's calmed down enough to form actual words instead of strings of rubbish.

"No," Derek says, "I stopped it."

"Why are you _doing_ this?" Stiles laments.

"You didn't listen to me, Stiles," Derek says.

"I never listen to you," Stiles says.

"Precisely."

"Are you -- is this a punishment?" Stiles asks incredulously. "Are you punishing me for not obeying you? Not cool, buddy, I -- _oh_."

Derek gives the head of Stiles' cock another suck. "If I let go," he says around Stiles' dick, "Are you going to come?"

"Duh," Stiles says. Derek tightens his hold on his dick, until Stiles is gasping and saying, "No, no I won't, oh my god, you _control freak_ \--"

Derek loosens his grip and gives Stiles' dick a long pull. Arching off the bed, Stiles tips his head back and breathes a sigh of relief. "Can I come now?" Stiles asks.

"No."

"Fuck you," Stiles says, but it's halfhearted at best because Derek's sucking him off again, paying special attention the underside of the ridge of Stiles' crown, and Stiles' thighs start shaking violently again. "Please," Stiles blurts, then bites down on his knuckles. He flushes even redder than before, his blush creeping down to his chest.

"Keep going," Derek says, pulling off.

"Please let me come," Stiles gasps, and he's fucking his hips into the air again, so Derek has no choice but to hold him down and keep blowing him. "Please, Derek, I need to come, please let me, I'm so close, I need -- f-fuck, ah, don't do that, I'm gonna -- I can't hold it, I can't, I _can't_ \--"

Derek pulls off again. Stiles keens in protest, and his cock is the hardest Derek has ever seen it, flushed and so fucking gorgeous, it's a wonder Derek can keep his mouth off it. His cock keeps jolting, steadily leaking from the tip. Derek gathers the precum in his fingers to smear them all over Stiles' cock, paying intent attention to the way Stiles' breath hitches and the way his thighs lock so hard they're vibrating.

"Derek, please," Stiles chokes out. His voice is thick and hoarse and filled with desperation.

"You said you can come without touching yourself," Derek says. He takes his hands off and rests them on Stiles' hips. "Do it."

" _Fuck_ ," Stiles breathes, and without any warning at all he's coming all over his chest, coming and coming and -- he keeps going until he's a shaking mess beneath his own come, breathing erratically and sneaking a hand down to pump the last few drops from his cock. Derek watches it all greedily, and it's no surprise when he looks down and finds his dick taking an interest in the proceedings again.

"My turn," Stiles says, grinning. "You've been a naughty boy, Der -- eek --"

"What?" Derek says, sitting comfortably on Stiles' chest. "What was that?"

"I said," Stiles starts, but then Derek gives his dick a slow, long pull and Stiles' train of thought seems to derail, "I said sit on my face, Derek."

Derek obliges.


End file.
